For Apollo
by define your destinations
Summary: He is not Apollo, the god of light and truth. No, he is Hades, the god of death and Éponine is his Persephone. He guided her to this destruction, this portal of death, tempting her with the fruit of a better future. She was his light, and without her, he is nothing but a man sentenced to eternal darkness. E/E (3-Shot)
1. I

Disclaimer:_ Les Misérables_ is not mine

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"Let us fight, Apollo! There is a revolution to be won!"

Someone, he can't see who in the rush, grabs him by the shoulder excitedly, determined to fight. Enjolras just nods and continues overlooking the frenzy that is taking place in the streets. Furniture is flying out of windows, crashing loudly on the ground, splintering into pieces that will make up their barricade of freedom. He watches as a piano falls out of a third story window- wincing at the crash it makes. He sees a young boy out of the corner of his eye wince as well. The boy is wearing clothes that are least two sizes too big, covered in dirt and grime. What used to be a tan, threadbare coat is now brown; it's wrapped around his slender waist, hanging just above the boy's knees. The boy hurries back to work- collecting the wood pieces and heading towards the barricade, arms full. Enjolras' breath catches in his throat and he stops, staring. He can identify that tiny waist anywhere.

_Éponine._

Some part of him is terrified for her; he knows that irrationality runs through her veins, pumping side by side with her love for Marius. Her ability to be unpredictable (and her passion, he admits to himself, even though it is never directed at him) is what appealed to him in the first place, and it comes as no surprise to Enjolras to see her here, red cap atop her head, shoving splintered piano pieces into the nooks and crannies of this barricade. His barricade. _Their_ barricade.

The other part of him is happy that she's here. Éponine is the blood that runs through _his_ veins. He lives and breathes for her, not this damned revolution, not for his beloved _Patria_, but for the girl with ragged clothes and knotted chestnut hair. This entire fight is for her people, for her, yet he is selfish. He is glad that she's here, risking her life for his cause, because it means that she might care for him a little. Maybe she believes that he can do this, even though he doubts himself.

He knows that they are all going to die. While _Les Amis_ may joke that he is a marble statue, made of unwavering stone, both sharp and cold- he knows that he is mere flesh and blood. Bullets will pierce his body and he is going to die for the one thing he ever stood for. The revolution may succeed, he thinks, but only at the price of their lives.

_There is still hope for tomorrow_, his brain whispers,_ but it is a tomorrow that you shall never see._

Courfeyrac informs him that the barricade is finished, that there is no furniture left. Nothing else can possibly be added, so now it's time. He shakes off his thoughts and suddenly he becomes their fearless leader, the one that is knowledgeable of all things and can bring about a revolution with just his words.

His makeshift troop gathers around him, and he examines the look on their faces as he preaches about faith and hope and bravery and fear- things he's not quite sure he believes in anymore. Enjolras makes sure to spend extra time examining her brown eyes, the slope of her nose, the curl of her lips as she smirks at him, catching him in his act. He glances away, his final words being met with loud cheers and shouts of "Vive la France!" from his friends. He steps off his podium and tells everyone to get back to work. The group scatters, taking up their respective positions with a light gleaming behind their eyes, determined to win.

Éponine rushes past him, heading off to do who knows what, but he grabs her arm and turns her towards him, not quite sure what he wants from her.

"_Bonjour_, Enjolras. Fancy meeting you here, huh?" she quips with a smile upon her face. He loves her smile and the dimples that appear on her thin cheeks . He takes a moment to relish in the fact that for once, this smile is directed at him and not Marius. She quietly slips out of his grip while she addresses him. Almost instantly he misses the contact .

"Éponine, you shouldn't be here." He doesn't know what else to say. He's torn between asking her leave and begging her stay. "It's dangerous."

Her smile fades (he secretly wishes it for to come back, just to see it one more time), but a fierce determination appears in her eyes. Suddenly, her face is one of a warrior, of a fighter, not one of a dirty _gamine_, alone on the streets.

"I know what I'm getting myself into, _monsieur_. I may be a street rat but I ain't dumb." She's not a street rat, he thinks, at least not to him.

He begins to tell her so. "No, you're not-" but she interrupts him, eyes burning, mouth pulled tight.

"This is a death wish, I know, but I'm not like you. I have no home to go to, no fancy things to protect. My family doesn't care whether I'm alive or dead- so why should I go running back to them? I want to make a difference and I can't do that out there on the streets. Please, don't make me leave. You're fighting for my people, Enjolras, the least you could do is let me stay and help." She finishes, letting out a breath she'd been holding in. He looks down at her, dumbstruck. Her speeches, while ordinary compared to his grandiose way of speaking, can rival his anyday. The amount of passion that burns through her consumes him, making his brain fuzzy and his heart beat fast.

He loves her, and she will never love him.

Fighting with her is a losing battle. He is no match to her wit and quick thinking, so he doesn't even try. Somewhere deep inside of him, he doesn't want to. He wants her here, fighting along side of him for a better France. Resigned, he just nods and reaches out to touch her. He quickly withdraws his hand though, because he knows that he has no right to touch her hand or kiss her palm or gently move his fingertips across her sunken cheeks. Her heart doesn't belong to him.

"Be careful," he says, staring deep into her eyes.

She nods, her smile coming back to her face, dimples popping back into place. With one last glance at Enjolras, she spins around, running off in the direction of Marius. He smiles in return because he's happy that he made her smile like that, and that she's willingly giving up her life to stay with him.

He leans against the nearest building, catching his breath and collecting his thoughts. He doesn't remember when it happened- when he fell in love with Éponine. She would come around with Marius, usually taking up residence in the dark corner of the café. One day, he overheard her telling Marius about the flaws in his plans. Her ideas were sound, so he pulled her aside, desperate to hear her opinion on his revolution. That was the first time he heard her speak with such passion, such determination. That night he went home and fell asleep to dreams of her and him walking through a new Paris, hand in hand.

After that, it just made sense to him. Here she was, the living, breathing epitome of his _Patria_. In her he saw something he failed to see in the other _Amis_. Éponine was determined and passionate and stubborn and most of all, she knew things. She understood life on the streets better than any of them, and with her guidance, he was able to refine his speeches and make them bigger and better than before. She single handedly changed him and his revolution. On those late nights at the _Musain_, huddled over papers by candlelight, Éponine brought the marble statue's heart to life. It started to beat again for her. Only for her.

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**Uh, hi?**

**I don't know if you noticed but I love commas, okay? Don't hold it against me, it's just how I am. If you don't enjoy them then please leave peacefully. Commas will be featured quite a bit. **

**Anyway, I'm new to the Les Mis fanfic club, but my E/E fangirl could not be contained, so alas, here I am.**

**I hope you liked this chapter- there's two more to go. This is a three-shot (and it's already written!) so the updates will come. Please let me know how I did (I'm a newb and need all the constructive criticism I can get) and don't be afraid to tell me I suck or that I know nothing. The only things I know for sure are that a) I'd let Enjolras storm my barricade any day and that b) Aaron Tveit has the best ass on 42nd street.**

**That's all. Enjoy!**


	2. II

Disclaimer: I don't own _Les Mis_

Also, apologizes in advance.

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Bullets are flying everywhere, shouts and screams echo around the street and Enjolras visibly winces at every gunshot. He's not nearly as brave as they think he is. Nevertheless, he's still front and center, fighting for something much bigger than him, even though he knows that it's going to fail. He ducks out of the way of an oncoming bullet and jumps off the barricade to reload his gun. He sees her, standing off to the side, handing out weapons to the other boys and he says a silent "thank you" to whatever god there is that she's safe.

_She can't leave me. Not yet._

As he's in the middle of reloading his gun, he notices an eerie silence settle over the street. His head snaps up, and there's Marius, standing atop the barricade with a torch and a barrel of gunpowder in his hands. He immediately moves forward, trying his hardest to stay silent in case any sudden noise makes the enemy fire. As he's halfway up the stairs he sees it. A member of the National Guard has his gun pointed directly at Marius, and the boy is completely unaware, in the middle of a stare-down with the officer. Enjolras moves faster now, determined to save him, but someone gets there first.

_No no no no no not her no no please don't do this no_

Before he can reach her, or even shout at her, he sees Éponine's tiny hands reach out and grab the barrel of the gun, pointing it directly at her chest. A loud bang erupts and he watches as she falls backwards, red cap falling off her her head.

_No._

In the distance he hears the enemy officer withdraw and retreat back down the alley. Marius is too busy celebrating his small victory to notice what just happened, so Enjolras grabs the flaming torch out of his hands and runs down the stairs. Marius follows, confused. It isn't until he reaches the ground that he sees her. Marius rushes over to her, picking her up while Enjolras stops dead in his tracks, unable to move.

His heart shatters the minute he sees the blood. There's so much blood. Too much blood.

Éponine smiles up at Marius and Enjolras' heart cracks just a little more. He tries to move forward, to go to her side, but his feet are glued to this very spot and he can do nothing but stare as the girl he loves (the girl he worships) dies in the arms of the one that _she_ loves, the one that she worships.

Éponine is talking to Marius, smiling, putting on a brave face for her audience. Enjolras admires her insane bravery and her ability to be happy even in the midst of death. Dying in Marius' arms is what she would have wanted, Enjolras thinks, even though his entire being aches for her.

Her words are coming out much slowly now, her body quaking from pain. Marius is sobbing and crying and Enjolras is pretty sure that he hates him right now. It's not fair that he gets this moment. It's not fair that he's crying over her when he didn't even notice her until she was dying in his arms.

_It should be me_, he thinks._ I love you. Me. It should be me, die with me. Not him. No._

Propelled by his thoughts, he moves forward, determined to not miss this moment, to be there for her when the light disappears from her eyes.

"I think I was a little bit in love with you," he hears her slur. A smile is on her face and there are her dimples, his favorite part of her out on full display, but looking so different than they did two, three, four hours ago. She turns her head, searching for her leader, and Enjolras isn't quite sure if those words were meant for him or the blind boy she's desperately clinging to.

Marius leans down to kiss her forehead and suddenly Enjolras is right there and he's holding her hand but it's too late. Éponine's breathing stops and her small, yet calloused, fingers loosen around his grip but he won't let go, can't let go. Combeferre comes over to take her away but Enjolras refuses to let go of her hand. Marius is still leaning against the barricade, tears running down his face, but he's relinquished his hold on her body and allows Combeferre to pick her up. The two of them have to physically pry Enjolras' hand away, and it isn't until he sees her swaying from Combeferre's arms that he realizes that he's crying and that he is shaking and that she is _gone_.

_She's gone. Her passion is gone. Her dimples are gone. Her eyes, her smile, her words. All gone. Everything is gone gone gone._

It finally strikes Enjolras just how wrong his friends are. He is not Apollo, the god of light and truth. No, he is Hades, the god of death and Éponine is his Persephone. He guided her to this destruction, this portal of death, tempting her with the fruit of a better future. She willingly took a bite and he tied her to his world of ruin. He did not tell her to leave; did not tell her to seek refuge somewhere else or to get out while she could. No, instead he kept her here for selfish purposes, to have one more minute with her. She was his light, and without her, he is nothing but a man sentenced to eternal darkness.

He is the worst kind of person. A hypocrite, a sheep in wolf's clothing. He isn't brave, not in the slightest. He is selfish and all deserving of this fate. Nobody deserves eternal darkness more than him. He is the god of death, and Éponine was just his first victim.

Just like Persephone, she sacrificed her days in the sunlight of youth to spend eternity in a pit of darkness. However, both her and Enjolras know that she won't ever get to see the light again. Demeter is not here to save her or to grant Éponine six more months of life. No longer will the flowers bloom or the trees bud in her name. Éponine will never see another summer, for she is stuck in a never ending winter, destined to spend the rest of her life in the shadow of the underworld.

_An eternity with me_, Enjolras thinks.

He and Marius are still leaning against the barricade, still crying. The silence that settled over the street during Éponine's death has now ended, even though every single person feels the ache from watching the young girl sacrifice her life. No one can quite believe it.

"I love her," Enjolras whispers to Marius. It's the first time he's ever said it out loud, but he refuses to say it in the past tense. She may be gone but his love for her is just as alive as it was an hour ago.

"I know," Marius replies. Enjolras turns his head, shock registering on his face as he glances at his friend. "You didn't do a very good job at hiding it," Marius explains, shrugging.

"She loved you." Enjolras mumbles, staring at his still quivering hands. He thinks Marius has the right to know that Éponine sacrificed everything for him.

_Look at the things she has done for you, you fool! You idiot! She gave up everything for you!_

"I know," he admits again, shaking his head. "I knew all this time that she liked me and yet I sent her to find Cosette. I used her so much, Enjolras; I'm the worst kind of person." Marius is visibly shaking, his words escaping his lips faster now. "You have to understand, Enjolras, that she was my best friend. I loved her, but in a different way than she loved me. It was only platonic; brotherly in a way, but I valued her company and even when I knew that it was more than friendship to her I still kept her around because I needed her."

"She needed _you_." Enjolras tells him, his words biting. "She needed you and you just let her fawn all over you and how could you do that?!" He's almost yelling now, no longer afraid of what his friends might think of their fallen leader.

Marius lets him yell, and he watches as Enjolras literally slumps down, putting his hands on his face, leaning on his knees. He's sobbing now, trying to catch his breath, but it's not working. Nothing is working to stop this pain that he's feeling, this emptiness that now exists inside of him. Minutes, hours (he doesn't know) pass until he's run out of tears to cry.

_There's nothing left._

"I need her." It's so quiet that Marius almost misses it, but he hears the pain behind Enjolras' voice, hears how much he his hurting. He reaches out and puts his hand on his shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. Enjolras lifts his head up, and the sorrow reflected in his eyes is enough to make any person fall to their knees.

"I think she needed you, too, in her own way." Marius informs him. He's not even lying; he genuinely believes that Éponine felt something for Enjolras. Maybe it wasn't love, but she valued his opinions and cared about him. Most of all, she trusted him, and that was almost as good as love in Éponine's eyes.

"Maybe." Enjolras looks out over the hell and the decay that his own hands created. He finds that he doesn't care anymore. This damned revolution is what took his love away, and he hates it. He hates what he's done, what he's caused, and most of all he hates himself. She would still be here if it weren't for him. His eyes are empty, devoid of everything except despair.

Marius has never seen Enjolras look like that, has never seen him so broken. He stands, staring down at the man whose strength and passion led them this far. Where did their powerful leader go?

"Come on, Apollo," Marius says as gently guides him to his feet. "You have a revolution to lead."

Enjolras flinches at the words.

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**Thank you so much for the kind reviews/follows/favorites. It really means a lot to me that you guys are enjoying this. There's only one more chapter to go, so stay tuned. **

**My greek mythology facts are minimal at best, so I apologize if I offend anyone. The way I see it, Enjolras & his revolution are causing all this death and destruction, and I believe that he'd feel guilty about it. Maybe not Book!Enjy but I certainly think that Musical!Enjy would be a wee bit sad that his friends are dying because of his beliefs. **

**In his twisted mind, Enjolras is Hades, god of death. Éponine is his Persephone because in a way, he "stole" her and made her come to the barricade. I interpret the Hades/Persephone love story as more one-sided on Hades part, and I think that's what applies here. While he didn't make her stay per se, he didn't force her to leave, either. Enjy is a terribly guilty and totally masochistic man.**

**Anyway, enough of my babble. Don't hesitate to argue/yell/throw things at me. Constructive criticims are always welcome. **


	3. III

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Again, I'm sorry. It had to be done.

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Enjolras somehow makes it through the night, though he doesn't understand how. He's lost everything within a matter of minutes and he finds that he no longer cares. What's the point of leading the revolution without her? Éponine is gone and so is his spirit.

He finds himself longing to feel the bullets rip his chest apart. He can't wait for the moment when everything is gone, when the darkness will greet him and welcome him in with open arms.

He can't wait to see her.

He imagines her, his beautiful little Persephone, anxiously awaiting his descent. While she might not have loved him above ground, there's always a chance she will love him in death. After all, she is his queen and he is her king and together they will rule the shadows.

Even though he's anxiously awaiting the afterlife, he still finds himself throwing everything he has into fighting. While his revolution is a failure (he's absolutely certain it's going to fail now, if there was any doubt before), he still has a death to avenge. They all fight in Éponine's name, but very few make it past the first wave of fire. He takes out every guardsman that he sees, channeling his despair and anger into killing them, making them suffer. He is Hades now and he, and only he, will decide who enters his underworld.

He notices the lack of Marius around the barricade and Enjolras is certain that he's not dead, that he must have somehow escaped. For once, he is grateful that Marius is flighty because he knows that Éponine is not yet ready to lead her love to the underworld. Enjolras isn't ready yet, either, if he's being honest. Death is what will bring the two together, and he will not let Marius once again separate them. If Marius lives and he dies then so be it.

The fighting continues and he has very little time to react. One by one his friends fall, eyes that were once gleaming now blank and expressionless. It saddens Enjolras to see his comrades look so...empty. He caused this. They blindly followed a fallen god to their deaths, and he never once corrected them when they called him their fearless leader. He let them believe that he was as unbreakable as a marble statue, as unafraid as the revolutionaries that came before him. He is nothing but a failure now.

There's four of them left now. Somehow they managed to reach the top floor of the wine shop that they all frequented. He glances at his friends, his four best friends, and takes in their appearances one last time. They look panicked, like the terrified school boys they are, and he swears that he sees tears forming in Courfeyrac's eyes.

_I'm so sorry_, he thinks.

He doesn't understand how a bullet doesn't hit him, but his friends all drop to the ground and somehow, he remains standing. He's cornered now on the second floor and he smiles to himself. He's one step closer to her and he prides himself on not being afraid. For the first time, he feels hope. His revolution may have failed but at least he doesn't have to stick around to hear about it. He will die a noble death, fighting until the last second for his cause. It bothers him because no one will know that Éponine was the bravest, that the dark, stubborn and passionate _gamine_ with the adorable dimples was the most god-like of them all. Enjolras is a coward, afraid of the light, but she _is_ the light. She is the real hero of this story, not this boy playing war with his friends.

He hears the steps creek and suddenly, he's surrounded by the National Guard. Guns are being pointed at him and he's so, so, close to death and then there's another set of footsteps and there's Grantaire, ready to die by the side of his not-so-fearless leader.

"Anything for you, Apollo," he mutters, coming to take his spot next to Enjolras.

He takes one look at his friend and nods, grimacing at that blasted nickname. He knows that this isn't Grantaire's fight, that he never really cared about anything, but he knows that this is what he wants. Grantaire needs to die with Enjolras just like Enjolras needs to die to be with Éponine.

The guardsmen are ready now, tired of waiting. Enjolras raises the red flag (the color of her blood, he thinks) and smirks because he's no longer afraid. His Persephone will be there to greet him. The bullets rip from the guns, striking him in the chest. With one last apology on his lips, he falls out the window, thinking of chestnut hair and dimples before finally succumbing to the darkness.

Hades has returned to the underworld, at last.

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**So that's it! **

**His death scene is always a tricky one to write so I hope I did it justice. I even included some E/R just because I felt like it made sense. Personally, I don't ship E/R (at least not in the traditional sense) but I love unrequited love almost as much as I love cookie dough, so voila! There it is.**

**Also, aaronteviet on tumblr made a stunning gifset of this story, featuring the beloved barricade boys. It's seriously gorgeous so ****check it out! **** aaronteviet . tumblr post/ 43922345230/ one-day-more-the-final-battle-it-finally (just remove the spaces!)**

******I hope you enjoyed this little tale as much as I enjoyed writing it. There might be more E/É in the future, who knows, but I'm so thankful for all the positive feedback I've received. You guys are the best. ********X's and O's and pocket-sized Tveits for everyone! **


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